


It Ain't Easy (For a Small Town Boy)

by epherians



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s Era Queen (Band), Album: A Day At The Races (Queen), Character Study, Coda, Comfort, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hugs, Insecure Roger Taylor (Queen), Insecurity, Inspired by Music, Inspired by a Queen Song, Song: Drowse (Queen), Songwriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 05:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18424137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epherians/pseuds/epherians
Summary: Roger thinks his newest song isn’t good enough.Or, the creation of “Drowse” in the context of Roger’s previous song being viewed as “not strong enough.”





	It Ain't Easy (For a Small Town Boy)

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the sudden idea of "Roger writing Drowse a year after getting teased about I'm in Love With My Car according to the movie". Drowse is also the best Taylor song ever and you should give it a listen!
> 
> Special thank you to [Lydia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydianNode) who inspired me to write this!

“Have you got a new song for us, darling?” Freddie asks, and that one question snaps Roger out of a daze he hadn’t realized he was in for the past several months. 

It’s a new year for a new album, but Roger has been so caught up in helping out with the other songs that he hasn’t thought of writing his own. Or so he claims. 

“Um… yeah, sure,” he lamely replies, but the truth is he doesn’t have a song idea yet.

He remembers how much trouble he put them all through for the last song he wrote for an album. He hasn’t forgotten how Freddie didn’t want his song to be the B-side cause they would have split royalties. Or how John smugly asked what exactly was he doing with a car. Or Brian reading his lyrics and saying maybe his song wasn’t strong enough.

(For a moment, Roger doesn’t want to think about the reaction his next written work would receive. Of that, he’s lost hope.)

That remorse doesn’t last for long, because the creativity of Queen’s fabulous drummer strikes him like a well-timed cymbal crash, like it always has for Roger Taylor who deep down wants to write songs for him and his brothers to breathe life into together. The idea for the song comes to him like the quickness of lightning. It starts with one line—“the sad-eyed goodbye, yesterday moments I remember”—and suddenly the poetry _flows_.

How can he describe it? The same bolt of lightning that struck him and compelled him to pour his feelings out on the page, words that he so wants others to understand! Writing is a different process for everyone—John quietly creates until his lyrics are complete, Brian has pages upon pages of concepts and ideas, and Freddie houses plans for extravagant, orchestrated masterpieces. Roger is compelled to write what he knows and how he feels. Roger writes where he is moved in his heart, all the contemplations he can only think best when painted by his voice and a steady but sure drumbeat.

(Perhaps he doesn’t want to write another song that’s only going to be seen as a joke.)

He doesn’t quite “bring it up” at meetings to discuss the new album. He’s not ready to be shot down again for a song that’s always about a disgruntled youth who longs for something more in his life. But he’s not sure staying silent about it helps either. John’s already got a song he promises is going to be very enjoyable. Brian’s pieces are all heavy on guitar, while Freddie has a plethora of songs he’s going to need layers upon layers of vocals for.

(At the moment, Roger just doesn’t think bringing up his song is going to be a good idea.)

Eventually he gets around to recording it. He records rhythm with John, who thankfully is never intrusive and follows along diligently to the tune set by him on his guitar. He asks Brian to play slide guitar, because there’s a specific sound he has in mind for the motif, akin to yawning and doing neck rolls—but in a musical way. Almost like a metaphor.

(He snorts at that one, almost like remembering those fateful words that would be quoted for days on end at Rockfield. Roger isn’t sure he’s qualified to write metaphors if they don’t have to do with cars.)

It’s why he deliberately doesn’t record vocals with the others around. Roger tells Brian the slide guitar is a continuous refrain, and after a long day’s worth of “Somebody to Love” recordings, Freddie tells him how he’s looking forward to hearing his newest song.

(Roger just wonders where it would go amidst a song in waltz time, John’s perfectly created love song, the aforementioned “Somebody to Love”, and Brian’s idea of incorporating some lines in Japanese.)

Roger’s fear is so irrational, the others would laugh at him if they even knew. He should be a coward for not wanting to sing it in front of his brothers. But he waits until they’re gone, makes sure it’s just him and Mike in the studio before he steps into the booth to finally lay down the vocal tracks. 

He closes his eyes as he sings, pouring out the troubles of daydreams and wishes and things people regret not doing when they were younger. They might say he’s too young to be singing about such philosophies, but Roger knows deep down the thoughts he had in mind for this song, and such things don’t always have an explanation.

“ _Out here on the street, we’d gather and meet!_  
_And scuff up the sidewalk, with endlessly restless feet!_  
_And half of the time, we’d broaden our minds more,_  
_In the pool hall than we did in the school hall!_ ”

(He’s on an absolute high when he hits the last line of the bridge, “ _the lights and the fun_ ” with an inflection only a perfectly aimed falsetto can deliver, if he could say so himself.) For a fleeting moment, Roger feels like he can enjoy his own song—until he looks up and sees Freddie, Brian, and John all watching in rapt surprise.

He feels incredibly ashamed, looking down when he exits the recording booth as if that will get the memo across.

Except Freddie never dances with false premises. “Rog, was that your song just now?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to worry, we can work on something else,” the drummer answers, uncharacteristically moody. 

“It’s a really good song, Rog,” John pipes up, “I’ve never heard you do something like it before.”

( _Well. Guess there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?_ )

“Thanks,” Roger says. “It’s not done yet, but… I promise I’ll make it good.”

It’s easy to note the lack of enthusiasm in Roger’s voice. Thankfully, his brothers aren’t daft. It’s Brian who finds him in private, and Roger doesn’t know why he reacts the way he does.

“I think you have a fantastic song, Rog,” the guitarist says with all the admiration in the world. And Brian means well, but something stings when Roger hears the words and all of a sudden he’s blinking his eyes rapidly like there’s something in the way.

“Thanks-” he tries to say, but it comes out wrong, all high-pitched and squeaky and _CLEARLY_ like an uncomfortable social cue all because he can’t calm down. (What kind of bloke gets choked up over a song he wrote!? He’s written other songs before!)

“Roger? Is everything all right?”

(Everything’s not fucking all right when you’re being forced to look like you’re not crying.)

“I like your song, Rog. Do you think it’s not good enough?”

If Roger had his way, like he writes lyrics and plays chords and sets every drum beat, he’d take this opportunity to snark back at Brian about irony as she is dressed finely. Instead, the first thing he says is, “Why do you like the song?”

“Pardon?”

And all of a sudden Roger’s words spill like a drink knocked down on accident.

“Is it because it’s not dumb? It’s very thoughtful and evocative, like something _you_ would write, perhaps? You’re probably glad that ‘Roger decided to write something sensible for once!’ because everything he sings is out of place on the album but we have to be equally fair and accept him-”

Brian doesn’t speak back, but he interrupts Roger anyway when he pulls the drummer into a hug, and Roger could cry from Brian’s endless supply of grace.

(That ends up being what he does.)

He can also count on Brian to figure things out when they matter most. “I understand now, Rog… I didn’t mean to make you think your songwriting wasn’t good enough.”

“But that’s what you _did,_ ” Roger speaks through the tears.

“I promise I won’t do it again. I’m sorry, Rog. I don’t want you to think you have to write what will impress us. Your song is amazing—all of them are—and I know you’ll have many more down the line that I want you to create and play. I have faith in you.”

Brian’s embrace is warm and comforting and it’s all Roger wants. He stays there and cries, and Brian lets him because he understands.

His brothers _all_ hug him when he turns up at the studio the next day, and they’re beaming with love and excitement for the latest song he’s written but so-rarely sung about.

It gives Roger the confidence he recognizes he needs.

“Right. So… you guys want to hear me sing Drowse?”


End file.
